


Cold Hands and a Warm Heart

by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas Fluff, Derek Wears Glasses, Derek has warm hands, First Meeting, Gloves, M/M, Metaphors, Stiles has cold hands, Teeny Angst, They fit, Train Rides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleaf/pseuds/howl-to-the-wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had always had cold hands. It was the weirdest thing. He learned to accept it though, and so did everyone else.</p><p>Because, Jackson said, it wasn’t like someone was raring to hold Stiles’ hand anyway.</p><p>Stiles was immensely pleased when Scott pummeled Jackson extra hard with the couch cushions to make up for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hands and a Warm Heart

Stiles had always had cold hands.

It was the weirdest thing.

He also got cold easily so he was prone to layering up during the winter, but his hands were kind of a different entity altogether. They were chilly to the touch even when Stiles wasn’t cold at all.

He guessed he was probably just built that way.

If people thought sweaty palms were embarrassing, cold hands were probably more so. People hardly even touched Stiles’ hand, shaking his hand for only about a second before pulling away. Sometimes the other person’s fingers didn’t even make it past his before they pulled away in shock at his frozen phalanges.

Stiles learned to accept it though, and so did everyone else.

Because, Jackson said, it wasn’t like someone was raring to hold Stiles’ hand anyway.

Stiles was immensely pleased when Scott pummeled Jackson extra hard with the couch cushions to make up for that.

Stiles looked away from the couple on the train snuggled together and holding hands, and the mother holding onto her daughter’s hand at the corner. It was always like this whenever he had to ride the subway. There was always a couple or two or five holding hands, or family members, or friends. Thankfully there were only two more stops left before he had to get off.

Stiles had always been tactile and it was probably just due to his big personality that he managed to get past how people shrugged his hands off. After his mom passed on due to sickness though, Stiles took to hiding his hands, always remembering how deathly cold his mother’s hands were the moment her heart stopped.

That was two days before Christmas…

Anyway, to help him, Scott had given Stiles his first ever pair of gloves, a pair of fingerless, badass-looking leather gloves.

Stiles loved them. They didn’t look too odd, and didn’t look too out of place against Stiles’ plaid shirts and hoodies. It made him feel cool and feel a bit better now that he could touch people. He just had to be careful about his frosty fingers.

Ever since then, Stiles always made sure to have a pair of gloves or two handy in his backpack for hand-related emergencies. He also considered himself lucky that working in IT meant he touched computers more than he touched people.

Stiles sighed and looked at his hands, their coldness hidden this time by the warm pair of knitted gloves Allison made him for his birthday a few month back. Christmas was fast approaching, so his gloves weren’t out of place for the season. He just couldn’t help feeling a little cold no matter how much he wrapped up.

There was an announcement over the speaker and after a while, he reached his stop and got off. Half an hour later and Stiles was walking inside their front door, greeting his Dad.

It was another normal day.

* * *

Stiles hummed along to the music blasting from his headphones as he waited for the train he always took to and from work. He made good time today. He’ll arrive earlier than usual. He reached into his pocket to change the songs on his iPod just as the train stopped in front of him with a creak and the doors opened.

“Oh, dammit.” He walked in, a hand still in his pocket and the cord of his headphones wrapping around his arm. He was too preoccupied that he ended up tripping. He reached out on instinct and grabbed the nearest thing he could.

It was warm.

“Oh, sorry!” He looked up.

It was a male, tall, tan and dark-haired, with gorgeous cheek bones, a lickable stubble, and the most captivating green-gold eyes Stiles had ever seen hidden behind a pair of large, square-framed glasses. And he was warm.

“No problem.” The other male smiled. “Oh!” He took hold of Stiles’ elbow and pulled him forward just as the train doors closed behind him.

“T-Thank you,” Stiles said, still a bit disoriented. Only then did he realize that he was still holding onto the guy’s arm. “Sorry about that.”

“Not a problem,” the guy said, smiling politely and then turned back to the book he was reading.

Stiles shuffled over to stand a few paces away, managing to find a spot where he could stand steady and also watch the rather good-looking guy that helped him. He was reading, but he had one hand on the crook of his arm which Stiles had grabbed onto, his thumb sweeping the skin frozen by Stiles’ hand.

Stiles reddened and looked at his exposed hands. Of all the rotten luck to not be wearing his gloves this morning. He grabbed his gloves from his bag and put them on. He never usually put them on during mornings on his way to school since he generally avoided touching anyone on the train.

Stiles glanced at the guy again. He was really good-looking, dressed in a black and white sweater, a dark blue scarf, tight jeans, and boots. He kept pushing his glasses up his nose and he was mouthing the words as he read. Stiles couldn’t point out any details about the man, like if he was headed to work or headed home, but he obviously got on a few stops before Stiles did.

Stiles noticed a tag on his messenger bag and squinted at it as he tried to make it out. It was turned away, but the guy was jostled a little as the train slowed down at the next stop and it flipped around.

**If found, return to… DEREK HALE.**

Derek, huh?

Derek.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered to himself. He looked at his left hand, flexing his fingers and rubbing his elbow where Derek touched.

Derek was really warm.

Stiles shook his head and turned back to the music in his ears, trying to ignore the searing fire in his skin.

* * *

A few days after that, things were different. Stiles was running late and his boss was likely to kill him.

“Hold that door!” he shouted, as he skirted the last few feet past the guard. Not that anyone could stop the train doors from closing, but still. He let out a breath once he jumped on, relieved at making it, and then took his spot at one corner of the train.

“That was close. I had to forget to charge my damn phone last night,” Stiles muttered. He raised his bag higher up his shoulder and checked his watch. He didn’t want to be late.

The train was spouting out Christmas carols and it was making Stiles feel a little cheery as he hummed along, forgetting the stress of almost being late.

The train reached a stop and a lot of people started getting on, and Stiles suddenly thought of getting his gloves out from his backpack. He didn’t want to accidentally hold on to someone. He scooted to the side to let two women stand near the pole and hold on to it. He was singing a little under his breath as he contemplated whether or not to get his gloves, when the train lurched a little and Stiles reached up for one of the overhead handles on instinct.

Only for his fingers to burn.

“Let it snow, let it sno– Sorry,” Stiles immediately said, turning to the other person.

Oh, he definitely remembered those eyes.

It was him again. Derek. That hot stranger from last week.

“Sorry,” Stiles said again. “I didn’t notice.” He motioned to how the other was already holding on to the handle.

“It’s ok,” Derek said, smiling brightly, and Stiles flushed when he noticed his adorable bunny teeth. “We can share.”

Stiles shook his head. The handle was big, but not big enough. Their fingers would touch if they shared. “No, really. I’m fine and I don’t need to–”

There was a shuffle behind him as people moved and Stiles was accidentally pushed forward, almost butting his head against Derek’s chin.

“Sorry!” Stiles squeaked.

Derek chuckled. It was deep, like a rumble erupting from his stomach. Even his laugh was warm.

“You should really stop apologizing. It’s like yesterday all over again.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. Derek remembered.

“You should really hold on,” Derek said, reaching for Stiles’ arm and pulling it up to the handle.

Stiles nodded, not saying anything else. He held on, keeping his fingers as far away from Derek’s as possible.

Derek’s smile slowly slid off his face, and his brow furrowed. “I mean, I’m right, aren’t I? You’re the one from a few days ago with the…” He trailed off, interpreting Stiles’ silence differently. “Sorry. I don’t… You probably don’t… Never mind. I–”

“No! No!” Stiles flailed with his free hand. “I do! I definitely remember you from a few days ago. I can’t even believe I tripped. I was just fixing my headphones and stuff and I guess I was so preoccupied that I stepped wrong. Then again, that kind of happens to me all the time anyway. I’m the clumsiest person there is, I swear. And you really saved my life by pulling me in. I mean, I could have gotten stuck at the door and get, like, cut in half or something. Not that it’s possible, of course, ha-ha. I know that. I guess I’m just being morbid and I think I should shut up now. Sorry.”

Derek didn’t look overwhelmed in the face of Stiles’ word vomit. Instead, he looked pleased and somewhat bashful. “I’m happy to hear you remember me.”

“Yeah…” Stiles looked at Derek, a bit dazed at him. Derek just smiled, looking a bit embarrassed, and it was making tendrils of warmth erupt under Stiles’ skin. It was like Derek was just radiating warmth.

The train suddenly made a stop, surprising them both. Stiles’ hand slipped and he found himself holding on to Derek’s exposed wrist. Stiles saw Derek flinch and he immediately let go.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, reddening. “This is my stop. I should go.” With that said, he turned and started making his way to the exit.

“I’m Derek.”

Hearing that, Stiles turned, but he had already stepped out of the train.

“My name’s Stiles!” he shouted back, just as the doors closed.

For a second, he was afraid Derek didn’t hear him, but he saw Derek look back at him through the glass windows with a smile on his face. He waved at Stiles, awkward and adorable, just as the train sped away.

Stiles looked at his gloved hand.

His fingers looked a little red and his palm felt tingly.

He smiled, turned around, and headed off to work.

“All I want for Christmas is you…”

* * *

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock. Jingle bell swi– Morning.”

Stiles grinned as Derek turned and then smiled upon seeing him.

“Morning,” Derek greeted.

This routine had been going on for three weeks now since they first met. Stiles would get on the train and then there was Derek, who got in two stops earlier, waiting for him with his cute bunny teeth and his beautiful eyes.

And every single time, Stiles would instantly feel a little warm inside.

The two of them would then find a spot where they could stand and talk to one another in soft whispers about work, sports, books, food, friends and basically anything under the sun, until Stiles had to get off at his stop. Stiles would then make faces at Derek – and completely not care if other people stared at him, because he cared more about the man hiding his giggles behind in his big, warm hands – until the train took Derek away to the next stop over where the older male got off.

And then Stiles would feel cold again.

Then the next morning came, and it will happen all over again.

Stiles was actually thankful for the weekends, because at least there were two days in a week when he didn’t feel like his temperature was going up and down like a yo-yo.

Still, Stiles relished those ten to fifteen minutes spent with Derek. He found out that Derek owned a fairly popular bookstore uptown that specialized in old and rare books. He had a large family, with his mom, dad, two brothers and three sisters, and they all lived together along with some aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and pets in a humongous house just outside of the city (Stiles checked online and the biggest property outside of town was a freaking mansion. The grounds literally took up part of the forest).

Derek loved watching cheesy romcoms, eating sweets, especially Reese’s Peanut butter cups, and had a tattoo, though he wouldn’t tell Stiles where he got inked. He also said Christmas was his favorite holiday of the year.

In turn, Stiles shared a lot about his life, about the IT company he worked for, that his Dad was a retired Sheriff and loved to sneak chips and steak when Stiles wasn’t looking, and that his best friend was Scott, who was a veterinarian, and engaged to Allison, who was an Olympic archer. He also told Derek about his obsession with comic books and Game of Thrones, that he wanted to adopt a dog one day, had never seen a reindeer, and that he made the best hot chocolate in the entire world.

Stiles also talked about his mom, admitting to Derek that she passed away when he was young. The personal revelation actually seemed to surprise the both of them, but Stiles realized he didn’t mind Derek knowing.

“Yoo-hoo?”

Stiles looked up. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking of something.”

“Obviously you’re bored with listening to me.” Derek frowned, though his eyes were teasing.

Stiles snorted, playing along. “Of course, I’m bored. Your stories are all about you.”

Derek swatted him on the arm. “You’re not funny.”

Stiles giggled, ignoring the way his temperature spiked up at the warmth that spread along his arm.

The train lurched to a stop and the two of them reached up to the nearest handle on instinct. Their fingers brushed and Stiles fought the urge to wince.

“I noticed your hands are always so cold,” Derek said, looking up at their hands on the handle. “You usually wore gloves, unless you forget about them.”

Before Stiles could answer, Derek reached up and took his hand.

“They’re really cold,” Derek said, touching each digit.

“Y-Yeah.” Stiles tried to pull back his hand but Derek had a firm grip.

…And his hand was really, really warm.

“Hm.” Derek looked at one of his own hands and then Stiles’. “My hands always run hot.” He looked at Stiles, smiling shyly. “We… we fit.”

There was a loud squeak and Stiles looked up as the train stopped. He pulled his hand away.

“My stop,” he squeaked out. “Bye.”

“Oh, ok,” Derek called out. “I’ll see you tomor–”

But Stiles had already jumped off the train. He made to run off only to hear someone calling him.

“Yo, Stiles!”

Stiles turned to the voice. It was Stiles’ coworkers, Heather, her girlfriend Caitlin, and Danny. This was weird. Usually, the four of them would meet at the coffee shop across the station before taking the short walk to the building.

“Thought we’d come meet you here for once,” Heather said as she neared. Caitlin giggled at that, while Danny was already looking at the train.

Oh no. No way.

“You’re a shit liar, Heather,” Stiles hissed. He turned back to the train. The doors were already starting to close.

“Is that him?” Caitlin asked, popping up behind Stiles. “Is that Derek?”

Danny let out a whistle, appearing on his other side. “Wow, the guy’s hot.”

“Shut up,” Stiles hissed, flushing.

“Where? Where? Let me see!” Heather peered from behind them, propping her chin on his shoulder.

Derek was looking at them, curious and shy, but he smiled and gave a little wave. Stiles told Derek all about his crazy coworkers, so he was probably familiar with them.

Caitlin waved back excitedly. “Hi!”

Derek beamed and raised a hand, but the train started moving on and quickly took him away.

Danny elbowed Stiles in the rubs. “Wow. You should really introduce us to him, Stiles.”

“Stiles got dibs, Danny.” Heather snorted. “But I agree. And here I thought you were just making him up.”

Caitlin giggled. “At least now, Stiles has someone to kiss under the mistletoe.”

Stiles sighed. “You guys suck, and no way am I introducing Derek to you.”

“Ooh, possessive,” Danny said. Stiles punched him on the shoulder and the damn guy didn’t even flinch.

“Anyway, now that we’ve seen this mysterious Train Man, we have to go,” Heather said, wrapping an arm around Caitlin’s waist. “We’re going to be late.”

Caitlin grabbed Stiles’ hand. “Let’s go. We have to– Huh?”

“What’s with you?” Danny asked.

“Stiles’ hands are not cold,” Caitlin said. She pointed at his slightly red fingers.

Stiles looked at his hands. He was so pale that any color would be seen immediately and right now they were looking a little red and felt a little tingly. His whole body felt a bit warm, now that he thought about it.

Danny grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re keeping stuff from us. Holding hands on the train with Derek, eh?”

“No, I’m not,” Stiles immediately protested. He winced. Now that just made him seem guilty.

And hell, he wished he and Derek were actually holding hands.

Derek did touch him though, for a bit. That was nice.

Stiles mentally slapped himself at the thought.

Caitlin noticed his silence and giggled. “Does Stiles have a crush on the new guy?”

“You have good taste, though,” Heather added with a shrug.

“I agree. Derek’s really good-looking,” Danny said smirking. “If you’re not going to take a crack at him, maybe I should.”

Stiles suddenly found himself glaring at Danny by reflex, and by the time stopped himself, the trio was laughing at him.

“I hate you guys,” Stiles said, walking off, leaving the three laughing behind him.

* * *

Needless to say, Stiles spent the rest of the week at the mercy of Caitlin, Heather and Danny’s teasing, and one night he was relieved to finally find himself boarding the train alone, ready to go back home.

Stiles sighed and looked up at the list of stops. Danny kept needling him about giving him Derek’s number – which hello, Stiles didn’t even have, for god’s sake – while Caitlin blabbed about his predicament to one of the gossipy employees from Finance. Now everyone knew Stiles had a crush on Derek the Train Man.

Stiles was so frustrated he ended up walking in a daze after work and ended up a few stations away more than usual from home. Then again, it was better this way. At least he had the whole ride to think. Plus, he didn’t have to worry about bumping into Derek on the ride home, since Derek told him he usually hitched a ride with his friend Isaac after work.

Tucked away in one corner of the train, Stiles leaned back, and hummed along to the Christmas carols coming out of the speakers.

“Make my wish come true… All I want for Christmas is you…” he sang softly.

Usually Stiles didn’t mind the teasing. He’s been teased before more times than he could count and he usually laughed it off. Hell, he dished it out harder than most when he was in the mood. But the thing was, this was different because this was something Stiles took seriously.

Stiles actually liked Derek. Even though they’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, he thought Derek was one of the kindest, sweetest, most fun people he knew. Derek was gorgeous too, yeah, but he made Stiles happy and… like, warm inside.

And whenever his body brushed Derek’s, he felt tingly, like he’d break out into sweat at any moment.

Stiles leaned back on his seat and closed his eyes. This was the weirdest thing in the world, like the stuff of cliché romance novels.

He sighed deeper and sang under his breath along to the song under his breath, muscles relaxing as the minutes wore on.

The train lurched to a stop and Stiles heard the creak of the train doors and the soft sounds of footsteps. One or two probably got on and Stiles didn’t feel the need to check who it was, though he did hold onto his backpack just to be safe. The train eventually moved on and Stiles continued humming along.

“Santa won’t you bring me the one I really need… won’t you please bring my baby to me…” he sang.

Suddenly, Stiles felt something warm on his forehead.

“Rough day?”

Stiles’ eyes shot open and he found himself staring at familiar, beautiful eyes hidden behind the cutest glasses. Derek was right in front of his face, looking so concerned with a cute furrow between his brows and one hand placed gently on Stiles’ forehead.

“Shit!” Not knowing what he was doing, Stiles ended up pushing Derek, sending the older man tripping back on the seat across with a hard crash.

“Ow!” Derek rubbed his aching back and frowned. “What the hell, Stiles?”

Stiles was too shocked to reply. Ok, now this was definitely some sort of romance novel.

Derek’s shock turned to concern at Stiles’ silence. “Stiles?” He stood up and held out a hand, as if to touch Stiles again. “Are you ok? Do you need to drink or lie down or something? Are you nauseous? Do you need me to–”

On reflex, Stiles shouted, “Shut up!”

Silence.

Stiles’ eyes widened. Oh my God. What the hell was he doing?

Hurt was splashed across Derek’s face and he looked away, pocketing his hands.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“N-No, I didn’t mean it that way,” Stiles said, waving his hands. He didn’t notice his gloves falling to the ground.

Derek sighed. “It’s fine. I… Isaac had a date so I thought I could sit here and think about stuff…” He glanced at Stiles and ducked his head, face looking a little red. “I didn’t know you took the train home and when I saw you, I thought something was wrong and…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I should go.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “D-Derek, wait.”

“Sorry,” Derek said. He made to leave.

“Derek!” Stiles reached out and grabbed him by the arm. With nothing else to say, he shouted. “You’re hot!”

Silence.

Derek looked at him, confused. “Uhm, thank you?”

“I… It’s not,” Stiles took a breath. “You noticed it, right? Like I always get cold and my mom, she was the same when she… when she was still… she was always cold too. And she… she left me and my Dad two days before Christmas,” Derek’s eyes widened at that. “And when she was gone, I always felt a little cold and when it snows it gets even colder and ever since I met you, it’s like everything’s suddenly too hot and too warm. Like you look ridiculously hot but when I touch you or you touch me or when you make me laugh, it feels even hotter and my skin tingles and I think my hands are gonna break out into a sweat, which is just ridiculous because my palms rarely get sweaty.”

Derek didn’t seem to be walking away anymore, but Stiles kept his hold, blabbing on.

“Like right now, it kinda hurts to hold onto you because your skin and your hands are so warm and I don’t even know if this is all just some damn metaphor or something, but I really don’t want to let go even though it burns. And when you like, talk or laugh or smile or touch me or even just look at me, it feels like I’m burning up and it’s confusing.” Stiles paused, taking a huge gulp of air.

There was a laugh.

Stiles looked up to see Derek’s smiling face. Immediately a zing of warmth erupted under his skin at the soft look in his eyes.

Derek smiled. “That was a total word vomit if I’ve ever heard one.”

Stiles flushed and let go quickly, but Derek grabbed his hands and sat down beside him.

“I… I… sorry.”

Derek shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine.” He smiled. “But I agree. You really do have cold hands.” He tugged Stiles’ fingers gently, examining them. “And I’ve always had warm hands.” He laced their fingers together and smiled at Stiles, his face and ears looking a little pink.

Stiles couldn’t help smiling back, feeling a bit bashful, his gloves forgotten as he held on to Derek’s hand.

“We fit,” Derek said. He leaned towards him.

Stiles instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, before suddenly opening them. “W-Wait. I mean, I didn’t… I’m not…”

Derek leaned back, getting the picture. “I guess it’ll take a while for you to get used to my unnatural hotness, won’t it?”

Stiles didn’t let go of Derek’s hand, scooting closer to him. “You’re so vain,” he murmured, making Derek laugh. The sound of it warmed Stiles up like it always did.

Stiles felt Derek’s warmth seeping into his skin. It still burned, but now that he thought about it, it didn’t hurt that much. It was still a bit of a shock, but it was a familiar and comforting heat, something Stiles could get used to it.

And maybe, Stiles reached up and pressed the pad of his thumb against Derek’s smiling lips – how it burned – he could get used to other things soon too.

Over their heads, the radio continues to play on.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas… Let your heart be light…”

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite Christmassy, I know. I wrote this for a different fandom years ago and I got it into my head to adapt it to Sterek because of the whole Stiles!Nogitsune being cold thing and werewolves running hot. In here there are no supernatural creatures and Stiles just runs cold and Derek just runs hot. Plus, there may be a metaphor thrown in there somewhere.
> 
> Hope you liked it. Hit me up on tumblr at [howl-to-the-wind](http://howl-to-the-wind.tumblr.com).
> 
> Happy holidays.


End file.
